Gospel Story Finder

During a trip to South America a few years ago, I spoke with a stake president whose stake had experienced over 50 percent unemployment during the previous three years. I knew the stake had received less than $200 from the Area office during that period. I asked him how the members had been able to survive without a large infusion of outside help. His answer was the families had helped each other—not just father, mother, sons, and daughters, but uncles, aunts, and cousins. When a cousin got a job, the money earned went to benefit everyone. In addition, ward members looked after each other and shared what they had, however so meager. With tears in his eyes he explained how close his stake members were to each other and to the Lord. Their spirituality had increased manyfold. Did they have the welfare program? Yes—and in its purest form.

Latter-day Saints too have suffered from violent mobs. For instance, on October 30, 1838, a collection of Latter-day Saint families was attacked at Hawn’s Mill in Missouri by an unauthorized militia. In this massacre, many of the Latter-day Saint men headed to the blacksmith shop to mount a defense. However, the militia members could easily fire into the building because there were large gaps in the walls. Eventually, the militia members entered the structure. They found three innocent young boys—Sardius Smith, Alma Smith, and Charles Merrick—whom they shot. Two were killed.

Jung Sung Eun of Korea didn’t pass the qualification exam to become a teacher. Tina Roper of Utah, USA, lost a job that she had expected to turn into a career. Todd Schlensker of Ohio, USA, received a spiritual confirmation to marry but saw his engagement come to an end. Alessia Mazzolari (name has been changed) of Italy ended what appeared to be the perfect relationship.

Sung Eun had worked hard to achieve her lifelong dream of becoming a teacher. She explains, “Because I have always tried to do my best in all I do, I have almost always been able to obtain what I hoped and prayed for.” But that didn’t happen when she took the teacher qualification exam. “When I failed it,” she says, “I felt I had lost all my dreams in one day.”

Rather than focus completely on building their résumés, Sung Eun and Tina realized they could also focus on building their character. Both women found comfort through gospel study and prayer.

“The Apostle Paul was a wonderful friend who helped me be patient and continually confront challenges,” says Sung Eun. “He always had a positive attitude and willingly waited for what God had for him, rather than hoping for his own timing.

“I learned something from his example: the period of waiting is not merely the process that we must go through to get what we want. Rather, it is a process by which we become who our Heavenly Father wants us to be through changes we make.”

Both Tina and Sung Eun admit that while building character isn’t always pleasant, the fruits of personal growth are sweet. Sung Eun says, “The year after I failed the teacher qualification exam was not only the most painful and depressing time period, but it was also the most precious. I became more able to truly understand other people’s difficulties and had a desire to help them with real intent and care.”

After being confronted with unanticipated setbacks, all four of these young adults struggled to find the courage to live in the present and again plan for the future. But they found that their faith in the Lord grew.

Sung Eun remembers that after failing her examination, trying new things became difficult. But then came a crucial discovery: “I realized that the real failure is to dwell on the past and make little effort to try to work things out. I decided that rather than continuing to be sad, I should turn this difficult time into an opportunity to learn. My ability to understand life in general broadened and deepened, and I learned that the end of one thing always brings about the beginning of something else.” She has since retaken and passed the exam and is now “a happy teacher who enjoys spending time with students each day.”

Sister Craig described what happened when she asked herself the following questions:
“What am I doing that I should stop doing?” and “What am I not doing that I should start doing?”
Months ago, during the sacrament, I asked myself these questions and was surprised by the impression that came. “Stop looking at your phone when you are waiting in lines.” Looking at my phone in lines had become almost automatic; I found it a good time to multitask, catch up on email, look at headlines, or scroll through a social media feed.
The next morning, I found myself waiting in a long line at the store. I pulled out my phone and then remembered the impression I had received. I put my phone away and looked around. I saw an elderly gentleman in line ahead of me. His cart was empty except for a few cans of cat food. I felt a little awkward but said something really clever like, “I can see you have a cat.” He said that a storm was coming, and he did not want to be caught without cat food. We visited briefly, and then he turned to me and said, “You know, I haven’t told anyone this, but today is my birthday.” My heart melted. I wished him a happy birthday and offered a silent prayer of thanks that I had not been on my phone and missed an opportunity to truly see and connect with another person who needed it.
With all of my heart I do not want to be like the priest or the Levite on the road to Jericho—one who looks and passes by. But too often I think I am.

Alice wanted to watch the men who were helping Father cut big blocks of ice out on the pond. Instead she was in the kitchen, setting the table for Mother, Father, and the men.
Mother set a pan of biscuits in the oven. “You’ve been a good helper,” she said. “Would you please go call the men for dinner?”
“Oh, yes!” Alice said. Now she could see the ice being cut!
“Bundle up,” said Mother. “It’s cold.”
Alice got her coat and headed for the pond. She loved to skate there, but it was more than a playground. Father and the other men cut ice from the pond. They stored it in a shed called an icehouse. When the weather warmed up, people bought the ice and used it to keep their food fresh.
Alice climbed down the hill toward the pond. She saw Father with his horses, pulling a claw-shaped tool to mark the ice. Some of the men followed behind. They used the marks to guide them as they cut blocks. Others used poles to pull the blocks out of the water.
Alice called out. “Dinner! Hot stew and biscuits!”
Father was deaf, but he could guess why she had come. “Go on in,” he told the men. “I’m going to stay and lift my marker out so it won’t get stuck in the ice.”
Alice waited while Father finished. Three big blocks floated nearby. She picked up a pole. She pulled in one block, then two. But the last block was just out of reach.
Then Alice noticed another block near her. It had been cut on the sides but not on the end. The men had left it attached to ice that touched the shore. It seemed like the perfect place to stand and reach the block still floating in the water. Alice stepped onto it. As she stretched out her arm, the ice broke.
Crack! With a splash, she fell into the water.
Alice screamed. She tried to keep her head above the water and saw Father turn toward her. He couldn’t hear her, but he must have seen the splash! Just as her head dipped below the freezing water, she felt something tugging her toward shore. It was Father, using an ice pole. He picked Alice up and ran for home.
Alice could feel her body shivering. She knew a bad chill could make people very sick. The winter air was freezing her wet clothes. She was becoming stiff and cold, like a block of ice.
Finally they were home. Father pushed the door open. The workers stood up. Mother ran to the door. “What happened?” she asked.
“Get the oil,” Father said. Mother brought a small bottle of oil that had been blessed by the priesthood.
Father spoke to the men. “If you hold the priesthood and are worthy, please help me give Alice a blessing.” Several men stepped forward. Alice felt Father put a drop of oil on her head. She closed her eyes. He said something about authority and priesthood. Then the others put their hands on her head too. Father spoke. “In the name of Jesus Christ, we bless you that you will have a speedy recovery.” Alice could feel her body relax. Her fear was melting away.
Father finished the blessing. Alice opened her eyes and smiled. She stretched her fingers and wiggled her toes.
“You’re like a cat with nine lives,” one man joked.
“No,” said Mother. “She’s the faithful daughter of a faithful father.”
Father could understand Mother by watching her lips. “I think Alice has a faithful mother too,” he said. “And good neighbors. Heavenly Father will bless her. She will be fine.”
Alice never even caught a cold that winter. She remembered her father’s blessing and lived to tell this story to her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren.

“‘Secret pals?’” My best friend Laura raises her eyebrows. “What’s that?”
I laugh. Laura loves anything that has to do with secrets. It doesn’t matter that she can’t keep one for more than about a minute before she feels like she’s going to explode.
“‘Secret pals’ is a project my Primary class is working on,” I explain. “Sister Sharp assigned each of us someone to be a pal to. We’re supposed to do nice things for that person and not let her know who’s doing them—it’s a secret. Get it?”
“Of course I get it,” Laura says. “It’s like you’re going to be Santa Claus to whoever your teacher assigned you to, right?”
“Well, sort of, I guess. But Sister Sharp said that our acts of kindness shouldn’t just be gifts.”
“So whose name did you get?” Laura asks, her eyes suddenly growing wide with excitement. “Ryan’s?”
I roll my eyes. Of course Laura would hope I got Ryan’s name. She thinks he’s really neat. Last year she made him a gigantic flowery Valentine card and signed it, “From Your Secret Admirer.” I’m sure she’d love to be his secret pal.
“No—we’re all girls in this class.” I hesitate. “I’m going to be Shiela’s secret pal.”
“Shiela? She’s weird!”
I take a sip of my milk, not saying anything. I remember that was how I felt Sunday when Sister Sharp gave me my assignment. I wasn’t very happy about it. You see, Shiela is new in town, and she wears faded, ugly clothes. Everyone calls her “Raggedy Shiela.” And she is kind of weird. She sits in class, not saying anything. If someone asks her a direct question, practically forcing her to speak, she answers in a whisper! Last week I asked her what math problem she was working on, and I had to say “What?” or “Huh?” about twenty times before she said it loudly enough for me to hear her.
Besides all that, she hardly ever comes to Primary. I didn’t see why I had to be secret pals with someone who seldom comes to class.
On Sunday I sulked all the way home from church. I didn’t want to go out of my way to be nice to weird Shiela. The assignment had put me in a bad mood.
“Lisa, is something the matter?” My mom asked when we got home. “You were awfully quiet in the car.”
I told her about having to be Shiela’s secret pal. “She doesn’t even come to church,” I grumbled. “I wish I could be a secret pal for Kari or Nancy—anyone would be better than Shiela.”
Mom stood silent for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed. I could tell she wasn’t pleased. “Lisa, let me tell you some things about Shiela.”
She sat down on my bed with me and talked to me very seriously. First she reminded me about Heavenly Father, about how we are all His children and how He wants us all to be happy and help one another. She reminded me that in an eternal perspective, Shiela is my sister. That made me feel unhappy because I knew I wasn’t acting the way Heavenly Father or Jesus Christ wanted me to.
Then, making me feel a thousand times worse, Mom told me some personal things about Shiela. Things that made me cry. Suddenly I was glad I had the opportunity to be her secret pal, because she really needs one. I promised myself that I would be the very best one I could possibly be.
“Hey, Lisa,” Laura says, interrupting my thoughts.
I play with the straw in my milk, unsure how to go on. “Did you know that Shiela’s dad died?” I ask Laura, pushing away the rest of my lunch.
Laura raises her eyebrows. “No. I don’t know anything about her.”
“Neither did I until Mom told me. She visit teaches Shiela’s mom. Shiela’s dad died in a car accident last year. That’s why they moved here. Her mom had to get a job. It doesn’t pay very well so she can’t buy many clothes for Shiela.”
“Oh. That’s sad,” Laura replies. “We should stop people from making fun of her.”
I look down at my lunch, feeling miserable. I used to make fun of Shiela—not out loud, but in my head. “You know what else?”
“What?”
“Shiela used to have a twin sister named April. She died in the car crash with her dad.”
I can see tears forming in Laura’s eyes. “Oh. How awful!”
“Yeah. Mom says that’s probably why Shiela is so quiet. When her sister died, she lost her very best friend.”
Instinctively we both begin to look for Shiela in the cafeteria.
“There she is—sitting over there by herself,” Laura says. “Let’s go invite her to play with us.”
Weeks go by, and Laura and I and Shiela are best friends now. Sometimes Laura and I make cupcakes or cookies after school and leave them on Shiela’s doorstep with a note saying, “From your secret pals!” We’re pretty sure she knows they are from us, but we don’t care. Whenever Shiela asks if we are her secret pals we say: “We’re your best friends—there’s no secret about that!”

Nearly 25 years ago, our family lived in Massachusetts, where I was enrolled in graduate school. My program of study was very demanding, leaving me little free time. One Sunday in church the ward Primary president approached me and asked if I might substitute as a Primary teacher for two weeks. Primary was then held on a weekday afternoon, and I knew it would be difficult to find room in my schedule to teach the class. But after some hesitation, I agreed.
The appointed day came to teach Primary. That afternoon I was in the university library, absorbed in a book on international politics. The subject I was studying seemed somehow more important than the upcoming Primary class. Consequently, I procrastinated until just 30 minutes before the class was to begin to review the lesson I was to teach. Then I walked from the library down to our ward chapel on the edge of campus. My reluctant attitude must have slowed my steps, for I arrived a few minutes late. As I stepped to the door of the Primary room, the children were just beginning to sing the opening hymn. It was a song I had never heard before, a song whose melody and message touched me deeply:
As I have loved you,
Love one another.
This new commandment:
Love one another.
By this shall men know
Ye are my disciples,
If ye have love
One to another.
(“Love One Another,” Hymns, no. 308)
As I stood there, transfixed in the doorway, the Spirit bore witness that I was looking at the most important class taking place in Cambridge, Massachusetts, that day.
Back at the university in dozens of classrooms and laboratories, dedicated scholars were pursuing answers to the world’s problems. Yet valuable though such efforts may have been, the university did not and could not hold the ultimate answers to the problems of a troubled world. Here before me was the Lord’s answer: the quiet building up of His kingdom on earth by the teaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ. What was taking place in Primary that day was a small part of a divinely revealed plan for the salvation of a fallen world.

Making the varsity basketball team in junior high school was probably the most exciting athletic achievement of my life. Just being part of the team and working out with the other players was a thrill.
I still remember what happened during a practice session. One of our teammates missed a pass. Then, a few minutes later, he made another error. This time he swore, and our coach heard him.
Now, Coach Fishburn was the most outstanding man I had ever met. He was bright, and he knew basketball and young men. After the practice, the coach called us together to talk about our practice. And he brought up the subject of profanity. “A good athlete never needs to swear,” he said. “Swearing only cheapens the athlete and makes him look weak. Men of greatness have no need for foul language—it only makes them look small in the eyes of other people.”
Although my basketball career was brief, Coach Fishburn’s words have always stayed with me. “Men [and women] of greatness have no need of foul language.”

“How many of you would like to have a ‘perfect day’?” the bishop asked the congregation. Many members raised their hands—some high, some low. A few kept their hands in their laps.
“That’s fine,” the bishop nodded. “Larry,” he asked one of the ward members, “would you like to have a ‘perfect day’? Would you please come up here to the stand? George and Ruth? Paul? Matthew and Joan? John and Helen? Ben and Carol?”
He called their names slowly, pausing briefly between each one. Many hands fell back into their owners’ laps; only a few remained held high.
“Is there a widow who would like to live a ‘perfect day’?” the bishop asked. There was a moment of silence as he looked over the congregation. “Grace, how about you?”
When those whose names he had called had reached the stand, he turned to them. “Which day would you like to be your perfect day? Tuesday? … Thursday?”
The disbelief and the embarrassed smiles on their faces showed that none of them had really expected to have to make a real commitment. Some nodded their heads yes. Others stood motionless. After several seconds, someone suggested Thursday because it would give them more time to prepare.
Smiling, the bishop said, “That’s fine. Thursday you will have a ‘perfect day.’ And since we do not have any speakers planned for sacrament meeting next Sunday, we’d like you to report your ‘perfect day’ to us.”
He turned back to the congregation. “Is there anyone else who would like to have a ‘perfect day’?” James, a teachers quorum member with a happy smile, raised his hand. He was included.
The bishop then told the congregation, “Your responsibility as ward members is to pray that they accomplish their assignment.”
How does one live to make a day perfect? That question passed through the minds of those who had accepted the bishop’s challenge. Throughout the week, whenever ward members got together, the subject of the bishop’s “perfect day” challenge came up. We were eager to hear the reports.
Sunday finally came.
Grace, a widow with short brown hair and shining eyes, was first. Her day hadn’t gone exactly as planned, she told us. She awoke with a terrible head cold—the first time in more than three years she had been ill. In revising her plans for the day, she decided to put together a scrapbook about her mother’s life, something she had been thinking of doing for a long time. Grace asked her sister to help, and they worked together to reconstruct their mother’s life story in pictures and words. It took most of the day, but the end result was a cherished scrapbook.
Grace found that her activities on that day opened up a new avenue to her. Her patriarchal blessing had said that she would work on her family history. “Because I didn’t understand family history, I just couldn’t get really interested in it,” she confessed. “But after doing my mother’s book, I decided to do one about my husband who died recently.”
She has since compiled histories of her husband, her son, and her daughter. “By cleaning out all the boxes of treasures and mementos I had been storing for years, I’ve found enough information to do the temple work for many of my ancestors,” she says. “I can see my work is just beginning. And I’m happy to do it.”
James’s goal for the day was much different. He planned to be obedient to his parents—to immediately and cheerfully do what he was asked. “It seems as if your mother always wants you to do something when your friends come over to play or when you in the most exciting part of a book,” he said. “Sometimes I stopped and told myself to do it now. At the end of the day, I was able to do it as soon as she asked. It gave me a good feeling,” he concluded.
Paul, a fifteen-year-old with a delightful sense of humor, also took the bishop’s challenge seriously. Though scripture study was not a part of his daily routine, he decided to begin the day by reading the scriptures. “I didn’t know why it was so important to me to read the scriptures that day, but it was,” he explained. “Several times Wednesday night I woke up, feeling sure that I had overslept. Finally, when my alarm went off, I reached for my Book of Mormon.”
He read for about forty-five minutes. “Reading the scriptures seemed to set the tone for the entire day,” he said. “It’s not always easy to get along with school friends, teachers, and your family, and my ‘perfect day’ was not different. I made some mistakes, but I did a lot better than I do most days.
“It also helped me to be much more aware of my blessings, of the things I should be doing, and of my mistakes,” he added. “Often during the day I wondered what I could do to be better.”
That question—What can I do to be better?”—was asked by others who had accepted the bishop’s challenge. Many of them found the answer in serving others.
George found attempting to live a “perfect day” a great challenge. “Even though I didn’t have exactly the kind of day I would have liked to have,” he said, “it made an impact on my life. I’d never even thought of trying to live a ‘perfect day’ before.”
Ruth, George’s wife, experienced an improvement in their relationship as a result of her “perfect day.” “By trying to keep my day perfect,” she said, “I realized some of the habits I had gotten into. For instance, I would suddenly get angry at George for some silly, insignificant reason. Now I’m working on correcting that.”
Recognizing faults and taking steps to overcome them was something each of those who accepted the bishop’s challenge experienced. Larry said, “Like many returned missionaries, I had fallen down in my study habits. There always seemed to be so many other things to do. So when I received this assignment from the bishop, I decided that I needed to regain that closeness to the Lord I had felt on my mission.”
Things didn’t work out quite as Larry had planned; a painful tooth ache spoiled his “perfect day.” “Still,” he says, “I don’t feel my day was a failure. I tried hard to live perfectly—in spite of my circumstances.”
For John, “Every day is a perfect day for me because of my wife Helen. To share my life with her is one of my greatest blessings. For me, a ‘perfect day’ is being together with her. We enjoy each other’s company, and we’re the best of friends.
“We start the day together in prayer and scripture study, and although we go our separate ways to work, we are spiritually together throughout the day. We like to surprise each other by putting a note expressing our love for one another in our lunch sacks.
“After work, we get home, have our evening meal, share in the chores, and then visit with each other and discuss our day’s activity, and plan for the coming day. A special activity for us each week is attending the temple, and this past week we went on our ‘perfect day.’ It’s wonderful to kneel together at the altar, holdings hands, and reliving our marriage covenants as we perform sealing work for others.”
Temple work featured in the “perfect day” for Ben and Carol. When Ben retired a couple of years ago, he and Carol accepted callings as temple workers. “The bishop’s assigned ‘perfect day’ happened to be one of the two days in the week that we serve in the temple.
“I serve as a supervisor at the temple, and I was really touched when, in a prayer meeting, the brother offering the prayer asked that the Lord watch over me, as supervisor, and bless me with a special day. He didn’t know about our ‘perfect day’ assignment, but his prayer was very meaningful to me.
“What a special place to be for a ‘perfect day.’ We were there in the Lord’s house, doing the Lord’s work, side by side with wonderful brothers and sisters, helping others on the road to the celestial kingdom.”
Matthew told the congregation that in his family’s discussion of a “perfect day,” “we came to understand the need to perfect ourselves a little each and every day. For some months, my wife Joan has been very ill, and her illness has affected the entire family. We have come to rely upon the Lord more and to daily seek his guidance, and we have come to better recognize and understand the power of the priesthood. For our ‘perfect day,’ we agreed that we continually need to be supportive of each other, and to live worthy of the blessings we receive.”
After hearing the reports of those who had accepted the “perfect day” assignment, I asked the bishop why he had issued the challenge.
“I’ve always thought about living a ‘perfect day,’” he said. “But we have so many outside influences and pressures in a regular day that we can seldom focus on the spiritual and idealistic. And we often speak about the impossibility of living a ‘perfect day’ or a perfect life. But I had a strong feeling that the time was right for the ward members to try.
“I think we discovered that we can make things a little more perfect regardless of our circumstances. None of the ward members involved in this assignment had to make an investment in money, but they did have to make an investment in time, and give of themselves.
“Many of us in the ward, not just those who had committed themselves to the challenge, also tried to live a ‘perfect day.’ As a result, we became more aware of the challenges involved in perfecting ourselves and tried harder to live worthy to have the Lord’s Spirit be with us.”
Though the bishop’s “perfect day” challenge did not cause instant changes in our lives, it helped us along the road to perfection—something we all hope to achieve.

I was born on March 7, 1998, in Congo Town, near Monrovia. Growing up, I attended church regularly with my grandmother in another church. Unfortunately, when she died in 2009 from pressure (hypertension), my church attendance stopped because there was no one around to encourage me about going to church and how to gain salvation.
As I grew older, I became curious about spirituality—how to get salvation and one day go to heaven. That became my goal and wish because my grandmother always told me that heaven is way better than the great America that I wished to visit.
However, I did not attend church again. I later relocated to Brewerville with no involvement in church activities. A big tree had fallen from the family—there was no more support, and everyone had to fight for themselves. I started looking for opportunities to gain an education since my grandmother was no longer around.
My life took many turns, as it does for most people, and through all these experiences, I found myself at a crossroads—searching for something more meaningful.
Later, a young man moved into our community from Nigeria. I found out that he had recently completed his mission and relocated to my community. I enjoyed coming around him because of his strange accent and his stories about the development happening in Nigeria—the beautiful streets and cities.
One day, while we were arguing, one of my colleagues, Amos Bangura, made a statement: “Liberia is a hell, and if you are born and die in Liberia and go to hell, it is a double punishment. Then God is not fair because things are so tough in Liberia.”
The returned missionary, Brother James Kolue, quickly used that statement as an opportunity to teach us about Heavenly Father’s love for all His children—no matter their location, family background, or country. He taught us that God’s love extends beyond our imagination.
After his teaching, I quickly asked him: “Which church are you attending?”
He replied, “I attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Have you heard about this church before?”
I quickly said, “Yes, I sometimes see their missionaries passing by.”
He asked if I would like to learn from the missionaries, and I accepted the invitation. I started meeting with the missionaries. They were friendly and kind, and their message about Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation felt different from anything I had ever heard before.
I spent several weeks learning more about their beliefs and reading the Book of Mormon. There was something about the teachings that resonated deeply with me. I remember the day I prayed for the first time to know if the Church was true, and I felt an overwhelming peace—something I had never felt before.
That was when I knew I had to take the next step.
However, life became tough, and I moved to Logan Town in search of opportunities. There, I met different missionaries and stopped them to explain that I had been learning with missionaries in Brewerville. They contacted the other missionaries and continued my teaching.
The missionaries introduced me to the bishop, who was then Bishop Paul Wrotto. He guided and helped me as I took this new step. Soon after, I was baptized. The moment I emerged from the water, I felt like a new person. My heart was full, my mind clearer, and I was ready to follow the path that Heavenly Father had set for me.
The gospel changed everything in my life, and I felt a strong desire to share it with others—just as the missionaries had shared it with me.
I felt prompted to serve a full-time mission and discussed this with Bishop Wrotto. The decision wasn’t easy. I had doubts about leaving behind the life I knew, especially the part-time job that I struggled to get. But my bishop said two things that remained in my heart:
God knows you personally. “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33).
You should create time for God. God should not create time for you.
These words kept playing in my mind. I knew it was what I was supposed to do.
I began preparing for my mission, and soon I was called to serve in the Ghana Accra Mission under President and Sister Young. I left my job to fully prepare, but then the unexpected happened: COVID-19.
The pandemic spread rapidly, buildings were shut down, churches were closed, and public gatherings were prohibited. The missionary training center (MTC) was closed, and I was stuck at home—no job, no mission, just frustration.
During this period, I began questioning my decision. But my bishop encouraged me to use the time as an opportunity to study the scriptures and follow the Come, Follow Me program.
Later, we were notified that we would begin online MTC training. Finally, I was blessed to serve in the Ghana Accra Mission.
My mission took me to places where I met incredible people and worked with companions who taught me to be bold in sharing the gospel and patience in helping others find the same joy I had found.
When I returned home, I felt the desire to share the gospel with my family—especially my brother. He had been skeptical when I first joined the Church. He didn’t understand why I was so passionate about it. But instead of forcing him, I decided to live by example.
One evening, I sat down with him and shared my testimony. I told him how the gospel had changed my life. To my surprise, he listened. We discussed the Book of Mormon, the teachings of Jesus Christ, and the Restoration of the gospel. It wasn’t a quick process, but over time he started reading and praying on his own.
Months later my brother made the decision to be baptized. I couldn’t have been happier. I saw him changing, growing, and the same light I once felt began to shine in him.
Eventually, he felt inspired to serve a full-time mission as well. He is currently serving in the DRC Kinshasa West Mission.
It brings me so much joy to see how far he has come. I know he will touch lives and help others find the same peace that comes from knowing Jesus Christ.
The gospel is meant to be shared, and I will continue to share it with those around me—just as I once shared it with my brother.
As I reflect on my journey—from meeting the missionaries, becoming a missionary myself, and helping my brother find his own path—I know that the Lord’s plan is much bigger than we can understand.
I call this story “a journey of faith.”

All these experiences were a fulfillment of a blessing I had received before leaving on my mission that said I would bring many people into the Church who would become great leaders. But now I was facing a transfer that I was not excited about, completely unaware of what was in store for me in my new area. The transfer was to Agoura Hills, California. I believed my mission president was an inspired man, but why Agoura Hills? The area was very affluent but very low in baptisms. You could count on one hand the baptisms in that area for the past several years. I had been one of the top baptizers in the mission for several months, but now all that would probably change. Then I remembered the words from a song that was sung at my farewell: “I will go where you want me to go, dear Lord.” So I went.
It is every convert’s dream to find the missionaries who baptized him and let them know about the change they brought to his life with the gospel. I also had that dream, especially because so many members of my family had been baptized after the elders left our area. I was now serving a successful mission. I had a sister attending Ricks College, another sister on a scholarship at BYU, and a brother and a sister both preparing to go on missions. I had lost track of the elders who had converted me. I wanted to find them and let them know how many lives they had touched.
My second Sunday in Agoura Hills, just before sacrament meeting started, a man in the ward came up to me and asked me about myself. I told him I was from Wyoming, and he said they had sent a son on a mission to Wyoming. A sensation of electricity ran through my body, but I knew it was not likely that this was one of the elders that I knew. So I asked, “What mission? The Colorado, Utah, or Montana mission?”
He said his son had served in the Billings Montana Mission, and when I asked him if he had ever been in Lander, Wyoming, where I was converted, the man answered yes again. I asked him a few dates and names and soon discovered that the man I was talking with was the father of one of the elders who had converted me. I said, “Your son is one of the elders responsible for bringing me and my family into the Church.” The man immediately introduced his wife, and tears filled her eyes as she realized that she was seeing a direct result of the sacrifices she and her family had made to send their son on a mission. Brother Miller introduced me to other members of the ward, and every time he told them who I was he choked up. I sat in sacrament meeting with tears streaming down my face as I thought of the mysterious ways the Lord had worked in my life. Who could have predicted that Elder Miller would come to my home and I would go to his almost nine years later?
I was able to see Elder Miller again, and he looked the same except for the three little daughters clinging to his leg. I finally had the chance to tell him thank you. He too was overcome with emotion as he told me what a feeling of satisfaction he had, seeing someone he had taught having as much success in the gospel as my family and I were.

When President Spencer W. Kimball was nine years old, his job on the family farm was milking from two to nine cows every day. Milking cows can become boring, so he thought of things to do while he milked that were interesting and good and fun. He practiced squirting a stream of milk into the mouths of the cats that gathered around at milking time. He memorized every word of the Articles of Faith and the Ten Commandments to the beat of milk squirts hitting the pail. He copied most of the songs in the hymnbook on sheets of paper and memorized them. On a one-legged stool, his head pressed against a cow’s side, he sang them to the cows.

President Kimball made his inner temple brighter and kept his spirit free by filling his mind with worthwhile things while he worked. Can you do the same?

I learned just how eager they were one spring day while driving to Salt Lake City to talk with a woman there. Suddenly, I felt that I could hear the sound of drums beating. I seemed to see an Indian woman, dressed in an oversize plaid shirt, a Navajo skirt, and a silver medallion belt. The seat beside me was empty, but I could sense her presence.
When I arrived in Salt Lake City, I felt prompted to ask the woman with whom I had the appointment whether she had any Indian ancestors. But Carolyn doesn’t look Indian; she’s blonde and blue-eyed, I thought to myself. She’ll think I’m crazy.
When I met Carolyn in her office, the prompting for me to ask was just as strong as it had been in the car. So I asked if she had Indian ancestors.
“Yes,” she said. “My grandmother was Cherokee and was adopted by the Navajo.” She told me about how her “Granny” had worked as a nurse for many years with the Navajo in Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Texas. Later, I asked Carolyn about the clothing her grandmother had worn, and she described to me the clothing I had seen the woman wearing.
I told Carolyn about the temple work we had done for the Choctaw. She was thrilled about the possibility of doing the same work for the Cherokee. The Cherokee were the second nation to walk the “Trail of Tears”; there is a record of the tribe in its entirety from 1835—before they had settled in Oklahoma. Carolyn is now doing extraction work on that record, preparing names for the temple.

When I was a mission president, I learned that the best missionaries were often those who had to make big sacrifices to serve a mission. I knew one young missionary who earned the money for his mission by delivering newspapers. While he was serving his mission, his younger brothers sacrificed for him too. Without telling him, they kept doing his job and saved all the money they earned. When he returned home, they gave him the money so he could attend the university. He is now about to graduate.

Next, Paula’s focus shifted to people living just across the border in Tijuana, Mexico. She heard about the desperate conditions many families were living in and she went to work. She collected clothing, food, and household items from everyone she knew. Soon the collected items were taken across the border and given to the families who so badly needed them. She is still collecting and sending on a continual basis.

Realizing what faults you had and taking steps to overcome them was something that each person experienced. Larry had participated in a perfect week campaign and also a perfect day experiment on his mission. “Like many returned missionaries, I had fallen down on my study habits. There just always seemed to be so many other things to do. So when I received this call from the bishop, I decided I needed to regain that closeness to the Lord I had felt on my mission.
“Things didn’t quite work out like I had planned them. I ended up having a painful wisdom tooth removed, but still I don’t feel my day was a failure. I was conscientiously trying to live perfectly—no matter what the circumstances. I was trying to upgrade myself in normal, everyday circumstances. And I relearned some very important things.”

During his years as Church President, Joseph Smith also had visions of, manifestations about, and visitations from ancient prophets and apostles. Father Adam was among the prophets most frequently seen. During the decade of the 1830s, Joseph Smith saw Adam in vision on at least three occasions. The two most familiar accounts are included in scripture as found in D&C 107:53-57 (which I briefly alluded to earlier) and D&C Section 137. However, the most personal account of Adam in vision is not recorded in scripture. In April 1834, the Prophet held a conference of the Church at New Portage, Ohio. There Joseph asked Oliver Cowdery and Zebedee Coltrin to walk with him “to a place where there was some beautiful grass, and grapevines,” Coltrin later recounted. The Prophet then requested they each pray in turn. After praying, Joseph said, “‘Now breth[r]en . . . we will see some visions.’” Joseph laid on the ground, and Oliver and Zebedee rested their heads on his outstretched arms. “The heavens gradually opened,” Coltrin recalled, and the brethren “saw a golden throne, on a circular foundation, something like a light house, and on the throne were two aged personages, having white hair, and clothed in white garments.” These personages were “the two most beautiful and perfect specimens of mankind” Coltrin had ever seen. Joseph stated they were “our first parents, Adam and Eve.” Coltrin remembered Adam as a “large broad-shouldered man, and Eve as a woman . . . large in proportion.”

Many years ago two General Authorities called a very young man to be a new stake president. In his response, the new stake president said he would give total devotion to his calling and would not ask any of the members of his stake to be more devoted than he. Then he bore his testimony that he believed the gospel with all his heart and proposed to live it.

Later at lunch one of the General Authorities asked this new stake president whether he knew absolutely that this gospel is true. He answered that he did not. The senior Apostle said to his fellow Apostle, “He knows it just as well as you do. The only thing that he does not know is that he does know it. It will be but a short time until he does know it. … You do not need to worry.”

A short time later, the new stake president testified that following a spiritual experience, “I shed tears of gratitude to the Lord for the abiding, perfect, and absolute testimony that came into my life of the divinity of this work.”

In 1899 there was not enough water in southern Utah. For more than two years there had been no rain. The streams and wells around the town of St. George had dried up. There was no water for the crops, so the plants died. The cattle died too. Many people began moving away.
Nell was a little girl living in St. George at that time. Her father told her their family would have to move away soon.
In June, Nell and her mother went to a Church conference in St. George. President Lorenzo Snow, the prophet at that time, was going to speak. Nell’s father stayed home to pack for their move. Nell listened carefully to what the prophet said. After the conference, she hurried home. She told her father that President Snow had promised if the people would pay their tithing and plant crops, it would rain and they would have food for the coming year.
Nell’s father explained that their family couldn’t survive another year if the crops didn’t grow. Nell reminded him that her grandfather had talked about how the people in his day were blessed by doing exactly what President Brigham Young (1801–77) asked them to do. Grandfather had promised Nell that if she followed the living prophet, she would be blessed too. Nell believed her grandfather, and she offered to give her father her own savings to help pay their family’s tithing.
The next morning, Nell saw her father plowing the fields, getting ready to plant. Her family stayed in St. George and did exactly what the prophet asked them to do. During the hot, dry weeks that followed, the people of St. George paid their tithing, planted their fields, prayed, and watched the cloudless sky for rain. They were grateful when two months after the conference, it began to rain. The crops grew in abundance that year!

As children living in Argentina, Andrea Veronica Muñoz and her older sister attended a Catholic school. They had never been exposed to other religious teachings until Andrea was nine years old. That’s when Latter-day Saint missionaries began teaching her family about the restored gospel.
Soon after the missionaries finished their lesson and left, Andrea’s mother explained that there was more than just one religion. Andrea asked her mother what church she thought best represented God. Her mother replied, “I think it is this one”—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, about which the missionaries had just taught them.
All her life, Andrea had always “wanted to please God,” so she worried about embracing a new faith. The feeling lasted only a few minutes, however, and was replaced by a desire to learn more about the Church.
The family was baptized, “and we started a new life,” Sister Spannaus said. “It was really wonderful the way our family life changed for all of us.”